


In Plain Sight

by DemonicSymphony



Series: Vampires of London [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, BAMF Mycroft, Blood Drinking, Enthrallment, Kidnapping, Lestrade-centric, M/M, Soul Bond, Top Mycroft, Vampire Mycroft, Vampire Venom, Vamplock, talk of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1930119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicSymphony/pseuds/DemonicSymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampires are a known entity in society. But they aren't always forthcoming with their state of being.</p><p>Mycroft Holmes is no exception... Much to the frustration of Greg Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GentleMoirai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentleMoirai/gifts).



> Written for the 2014 AU Exchangelock.
> 
> This will eventually be a collection of glimpses into their lives.
> 
> A basket full of thank yous to The Writing Circle for looking this over.

The first time Greg Lestrade thought Mycroft Holmes might not be the mildly boring politician he portrayed was on a rainy, August evening. After getting into yet another scrape, Sherlock was being dragged to Mycroft’s door by a wet, pissed off Greg, who knocked loudly on the expensive hardwood. When Mycroft opened the door, Greg half shoved Sherlock at him.

“John's out at a conference. Of course, Sherlock told me not to bring him here, but he has a concussion. He’s in a proper strop.”

Mycroft looked positively feral for a moment as he glared at Sherlock. “Go to your room. I'll deal with you later.”

A smirk crossed Sherlock's face as he started up the stairs. “Yes, Mummy… Good night, Lestrade.”

Mycroft cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “Thank you, Inspector. I assure you, he will receive the best care.”

Greg hesitated as the light caught Mycroft's eyes in an odd way. He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. “Right, thanks... I'll need his statement tomorrow. Now... I just need sleep.” He bid Mycroft goodnight and gave it no more thought until the next incident three months later.

\---

It was near three in the morning when Greg shut the door to 221 Baker Street and stood under the awning in front of Speedy’s cafe. After a long night of chasing criminals with Sherlock and John, he lit a cigarette and contemplated how he was getting home. He’d seen the telling glances between the pair all evening even though they thought he was oblivious. Then John caught a blow to the back of the head. Greg had helped Sherlock get him home. He pulled his phone out to ring for a taxi when he saw the black car cruise up to the kerb.

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke over his head as the window rolled down on the town car. Greg swore he heard Mycroft’s voice call to him from the open window, but when he got into the vehicle, it was empty, save the driver. The driver murmured the code word Sherlock insisted on them all using and Greg answered in kind before being taken home.

It wasn’t until three days later, when John offhandedly remarked on Sherlock’s ranting about Mycroft’s staying with them until the car returned for him, that Greg really started putting things together.

\---

Greg didn’t get Mycroft alone for another six months. _Six months_ of research and digging and Mycroft obviously _avoiding_ him. When Greg found himself alone with him in Mycroft’s plush office, it was obvious it was only because Mycroft had allowed and wanted it.

“You’ve been rather careless in your searching, Inspector.” Mycroft leaned against his desk, looking at ease in his bespoke suit.

“Didn’t figure I had a chance in hell of hiding it from you. Why bother?” Greg’s words carried an edge of snark he normally did not employ when speaking to Mycroft.

A low chuckle came from Mycroft and he leaned off the desk. “Tell me then, let us get it out of the way. Would you prefer drama? Shall I loom over you? Threaten you?”

“So it’s true then?” The question escaped Greg before he could pull it back.

Mycroft smirked, and there was a flash of what could have been fang, then he was settling at his desk to do paperwork. “Go back to the Yard, Inspector. I believe you’re in the middle of a serial murder case. That is far more important than your infatuation with me.”

Greg spluttered as he stood, only to be shooed out by a fluttering of Mycroft’s hand.

\---

Greg fumed for two weeks before he found himself on Mycroft’s front steps after one scotch too many. At least he’d had sense enough to take a cab. He knocked on the door a tad rougher than was strictly necessary.

Mycroft opened the door with a brow arched. “Gregory…” 

Greg stalked past Mycroft without even saying hello. When Mycroft shut the door behind them Greg rounded on him, pointing a finger accusatorially. “Why hide? It’s not like you lot aren’t out and part of society.”

“You’ve been drinking…”

“Well, no shit, _Mycroft_. It doesn’t take a Holmes or a vampire to deduce that!” Greg snarked as he looked up at him.

Mycroft sniffed and made a face, wrinkling his nose. “Gregory, if you’re going to drink scotch before you invade my house, the least you could do is drink a decent one. The leftover smell of whatever bottom shelf dreck you’ve chosen to poison yourself with is atrocious…”

The look on Greg’s face could have likely curdled milk it was so sour. “You are a prat, Mycroft Holmes. How long have you two been hiding this?”

A roll of Mycroft’s eyes later, he was guiding Greg down the hall to the library. “Come in by the fire and stop fretting. I don’t actively hide it. Why do you think I carry the umbrella everywhere?”

Greg let out an annoyed huff. “You could have told me…”

“Have a seat, Gregory.” Mycroft murmured as he retrieved a cold bottle of water for him. He relinquished the open bottle to Greg and smiled as he sat across from him. “Now, as to why the silence. You have been a boon to our family for many years now. As you know, drugs do not affect our kind, but the blood of drug users will. Sherlock’s habit was real enough, but there is a reason you never caught him with anything in his possession .”

“Because he was drinking the users.” Greg sighed and rubbed the back of his neck before taking a sip of water.

“Precisely. Sherlock has long been grown, but until you started hauling him out of drug houses, I had quite thought we would lose him to a hunter or his own stupidity. You cleaned him up, handed him interesting cases, and were never the wiser. We thought it prudent for it to stay unannounced. I can assure you, the people in my job know of my family traits.” Mycroft steepled his fingers as he gazed at Greg.

For his part, Greg was sipping at the water absentmindedly as he took it all in. “Right… So the night that started all this… Sherlock’s concussion?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Real enough, I’m sure, when the encounter first happened. But by the time you had him here, he was quite healed. He has, over the past nine months, become increasingly difficult, trying to ah- push us toward one another.”

Greg arched a brow at that. “He used to do anything he could to keep us apart.”

“You were finding him in drug houses, Gregory. Of course he didn’t want me knowing… I believe he has decided I am-” a pinched look crossed Mycroft’s face, “lonely.”

“Lonely… He-” Greg cleared his throat and took a drink of his water. “I’ll throttle him, Mycroft. I swear I will.”

Mycroft looked amused. “You attraction to me has hardly been a state secret, Gregory.”

Greg swore in French and sighed. “And I suppose everyone has been laughing at me behind my back?”

“On the contrary, Gregory. I’ve found it rather endearing at times. Sherlock-” Mycroft cleared his throat, “ah, he has been rather vocal about my telling you what I am. He’s had great success with Doctor Watson in that area.”

“John knows. You two told _John_ before you told me?” Greg looked nonplussed as he turned his face to Mycroft again.

Mycroft looked a bit pinched once more. “I am afraid Doctor Watson discovered Sherlock’s predilection for blood upon the first time they-”

“Yeah- okay, you don’t need to say any more, Mycroft. Ta.”

“Thank you. Sherlock quite enjoyed telling me, in detail, how Doctor Watson found out.” Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose.

Greg looked back up. “Hold on, now… if Sherlock knows I’ve been attracted to you for ages, and he and John- are you saying this attraction is not one-sided, Mycroft Holmes?”

Mycroft chuckled and a small grin crossed his face with a flash of fang. “That foul, bottom-shelf scotch did you no favors tonight.” He was across the space separating them before Greg could process it happening. Mycroft leaned in and breathed deeply at Greg’s neck. “That’s precisely what I’m saying, Gregory.”

Instinct should have had Greg resisting and fighting the predator, but all he could do was bare his throat to Mycroft. His hands moved of their own accord and curled in Mycroft’s waistcoat. “My-” The name was bitten off with a moan when Mycroft grazed his fangs over Greg’s throat.

“Do you know how beautiful you are like this Gregory? How _good_ you smell?” Mycroft nuzzled along Greg’s neck, sending a shiver through them both. “I’ll not bite you now though… Not yet. I want you sober the first time. I want to taste only _you_.”

Greg shuddered and let out a moan that should have embarrassed him had he not been so desperately turned on and half-pissed. He tried to press up against Mycroft and found himself pinned, albeit gently, to the sofa. 

“Ah- no, I think I like you best relaxing on the sofa, dear Gregory. You should rest before I’m tempted to rescind my decision to wait on your sobriety. Rest…” Mycroft gazed into his eyes as he spoke the command again. “Rest.”

The command was one he normally could have resisted after the training at the Yard for such suggestions, but Mycroft was safe… Greg found himself relaxing back against the sofa, falling asleep more easily than he had in years.

\---

The next morning Greg woke in a strange bed that smelled of clean linen and no one else. _Ah, a guest room..._. He stretched as he pushed the covers back. The pyjama bottoms were long and decidedly not his. _Mycroft’s_ , his brain supplied. A shiver went up his spine as he wondered just _how_ he’d wound up in the pyjamas.

A knock sounded on the door and he called out ‘Come in’ as he sat up on the side of the bed. Greg yawned while a woman came in with a tray. 

“Breakfast, sir. Mr. Holmes said to tell you that he’s been called away to a meeting, but to please make yourself comfortable. He also ordered breakfast for you and asked that you please try to eat it all. The foods are all iron rich.” She bowed her head politely as she settled the tray on the small table in front of the window.

Greg blinked, taking that in. “Oh- _oh_ ah, thank you, yeah. Yeah, alright. Ah, my clothes?”

“They’re drying as we speak. They’ll be waiting on you shortly. I would imagine should you eat breakfast and choose to shower, that would be ample time for them to be sorted.” She smiled at him.

“Right. Um, thank you.” Greg answered, flustered by being waited on.

The woman disappeared, shutting the door behind her, leaving Greg to stare at his plate before tucking into what was the best breakfast he could remember having in a very long time.

True to her word, by the time Greg was poking his head out the door in a borrowed dressing gown, his clothing was hanging on one of the bed posts. He hummed as he dressed. Greg found his way to Mycroft’s media room and looked around, poking at the electronics until he found a match on. He settled into one of the seats and decided he didn’t ever want to move again.

Greg was so caught up in the match, he didn’t hear Mycroft enter. He startled when there was a clearing of throat behind him. “Christ! Bit of warning, Mycroft!” A small grin followed though.

“Ah, that was your warning. I was terribly tempted just to surprise you…” Mycroft answered, a small smirk on his lips. He moved to Greg and settled in beside him, nose instantly in Greg’s neck. 

A small, startled noise came from Greg, but he tilted his head for Mycroft, eyes closing. “God, Mycroft…”

Mycroft chuckled, fangs grazing over Greg’s neck. He felt, as much as heard Greg’s moan as he wrapped his hand around Greg’s throat. With slow, gentle strokes, he brushed over the pulse he found just below the surface. “Beautiful…” he breathed out as he watched Greg.

Greg nearly choked as his fingers curled into Mycroft’s suit coat. “Mycroft…”

Another low chuckle sounded and Mycroft leaned back. “I would very much like permission to bite you, Gregory.”

Greg tipped his head to the side for Mycroft. His voice was not nearly as steady as he would have liked, but a small smile was on his face as he tugged Mycroft back to him. “Be my guest…”

Mycroft wasted no time in dipping his head to Greg’s neck. He nosed for only a moment, finding the perfect spot before biting down. Greg arched against him as Mycroft straddled his lap, sliding an arm around Greg’s shoulders to support him.

The injection of the venom sent Greg’s head spinning and he moaned at the same time Mycroft did. He gasped as Mycroft drank, remembering the one time he’d tried ecstasy when out of the country on vacation.

The second moan Mycroft made against his neck shot straight to his groin and Greg shuddered beneath him. Mycroft tangled a hand in his hair, tipping his head further and let out a low, possessive growl. Even through the high of the venom, Greg could tell it was difficult for Mycroft to pull back. The flick of Mycroft’s tongue was sensual as he sealed the puncture marks.

Mycroft looked beautiful as Greg stared up at him. “That was bloody amazing…” Greg whispered softly. “Christ! No wonder we have people hooked on being bitten.”

“Shh, I’ve only taken a little… Your blood is- unexpectedly delightful. I always assumed it would be of excellent quality, given the way you smell,” Mycroft punctuated this with a nuzzle along Greg’s neck. He inhaled deeply, drawing a small groan from Greg, before continuing. “But I never expected it to be so wonderful.” There was a small pause as Mycroft looked down, thumb tracing along Greg’s jawline. “I thought I might feed slowly over the weekend, if you’re amenable?” He purred in a quiet, soothing voice.

“God, yes.” Greg murmured as he pulled Mycroft in for a kiss, not as disturbed by the faint coppery taste as he’d thought he might be.

Mycroft kissed him slowly and whispered against his lips. “I’ll ask again when you’re sober.”

Greg answered by nipping his lip and deepening the kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft come to an understanding of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GentleMoirai has been super understanding that I took on approximately four hundred million exchangelock pinch hits to make sure everyone got one. With only one more to go, I decided to take a break and write this chapter. Now back to write something else in this 'verse for someone for exchangelock. ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoy HEED THE UPDATED AND CHANGED RATING TO EXPLICIT. 
> 
> It's about to get smutty in here.
> 
> Huge thanks to Bel and The Writing Circle for all the help and encouragement.

Greg was still floating on the high of the venom as Mycroft led him up the stairs. Mycroft’s bedroom was every bit as opulent as Greg had always figured it would be. “Must everything you own be so- so-”

Mycroft arched a brow as he looked at Greg. “Mm, I would say elegant, bordering indulgent… but I will assume the word you are looking for is more along the lines of pretentious.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” Greg insisted as he watched Mycroft advance on him. He gazed up as Mycroft backed him back against the bed and pushed him down. 

“No? Then what were you going to say?”

“Mm, something along the lines of elegant… or just… you? I don’t know Mycroft. You’re just so bloody- stuffy! Well, sometimes.” A small huff escaped Greg as he watched Mycroft.

A rich laugh sounded and Mycroft dipped his head to kiss Greg, grazing his fangs over Greg’s lower lip. Greg moaned as he arched up, rolling his hips into Mycroft’s. As Mycroft pulled away he smiled. “You are positively gorgeous, Gregory.”

Greg grinned as he helped Mycroft undress, the two of them slow in disrobing one another. When they were finished, Greg found himself in the middle of the bed, staring up at a predatory Mycroft.

Mycroft dipped his head and grazed his fangs over Greg’s neck, causing him to arch, moaning Mycroft’s name. Greg dragged his nails down Mycroft’s back, a whimper escaping him as he ground his hips up against Mycroft’s. When their erections slid against one another’s Greg tipped his head back, exposing more of his throat and for the second time that evening he felt Mycroft’s fangs puncture him.

As Mycroft sipped at him without injecting more venom, Greg moaned, Mycroft’s hand sliding between them to work them both with his fist. Greg’s hips rocked, drawing a low growl from Mycroft who licked over his neck.

“Gregory…” 

His name on Mycroft’s lips in that low purr was nearly enough to undo him barely three minutes in like some ruddy teenager in the backseat of a car. Greg gasped as his eyes flew open to stare up at Mycroft. A smirk played over Mycroft’s lips as he released his own cock to work solely on Greg’s, stroking him at a pace Greg inherently knew was meant to bring him off as soon as possible.

Mycroft leaned in, whispering against his ear. “I’m going to bring you off, Gregory… I’m going to make you scream my name… and I’m going to see how you taste when you orgasm… in every way possible.”

Greg gasped, hips bucking into Mycroft’s hand even as Mycroft worked him harder, seeming to read every movement and use them all to his advantage. There was no chance for Greg to try and hold off or hold back and soon after he was bucking up and crying out, near screaming Mycroft’s name as Mycroft bit him once more. The venom entering him made his head spin and he clawed at Mycroft’s back, body shuddering.

The next few minutes passed in a haze as Mycroft sipped and licked at him before kissing down his body and licking him clean, taking his time and making Greg whimper and moan as he rested under Mycroft. He was vaguely aware of Mycroft bringing a warm, damp cloth to clean him up. 

As Greg floated, Mycroft rubbed over his thighs and began massaging him. Greg watched him as he came back down, lower lip captured between his teeth. Finally, when he was able to find his voice again, breathing steady once more, Greg murmured, “Christ, Mycroft… that was intense.”

Mycroft chuckled softly as he drizzled lube over his fingers and teased Greg. “Too intense for this?”

Without hesitation Greg shook his head. “God no… please. I want it, want you…”

The cool, slender digit slid into Greg, making him gasp and bear down. “Fuck- Mycroft…” His voice trailed off before he slipped into French, swearing more as he rocked against the finger.

A smile broke across Mycroft’s face as he answered Greg’s French in a near purr, working him open until Greg was begging and rocking harder against him, hands braced against Mycroft’s ridiculously expensive headboard, French still on his lips. “Please, please, Mycroft, fuck me.”

“With pleasure, Gregory.” Mycroft shifted between Greg’s legs, slicking himself as he did.

The feel of Mycroft pressing into him was exquisite and Greg wrapped his legs around him as he moaned low. A small shudder ran through him and he whimpered as he stared up at Mycroft. Mycroft silenced him with a kiss, pressing in until he was fully seated, leaving Greg moaning against the kiss. They lay like that for a minute, kissing, Greg clinging to Mycroft, until Greg gasped and pulled his head back.

“Move, god damn it, Mycroft… Move. I need it.”

There was a wicked smirk on Mycroft’s face as he snapped his hips, driving Greg up in the bed with the force of his thrust and causing him to cry out. His hands shot up to brace himself against the headboard again.

“Fuck!” Greg exclaimed. “Fuck me, Mycroft. Fuck, please, like that… Hard.”

A low growl escaped Mycroft as he reached up and wrapped his hand around Greg’s throat, thumb stroking Greg’s pulse. There was no pressure, just a reminder of what he was, what kind of power was there. The moan it tore from Greg’s throat was sinful.

Greg gasped and moaned as Mycroft fucked him. He arched and begged for him until Mycroft’s hand closed around him and stroked. Greg gave a small, strangled cry. “Fuck!” 

After a few minutes of driving Greg close to the edge, Mycroft backed off and teased him, strokes slowing until Greg was nearly in tears, begging for Mycroft to speed up again. Mycroft’s voice was a near purr as he watched.

“So beautiful like this, Gregory… So sweet, this sort of pain on you. I think I’d like to see it more often. Make you ache and beg for me. Would you like that?” Mycroft stroked feather light over Greg’s cock.

“Yes, God, yes. Please. Please! Anything, Mycroft.” And to his surprise, Greg found he meant it. It wasn’t the venom, or the desperation talking. His eyes flew open and he gazed up at Mycroft, panting.

Mycroft’s eyes bore into his and finding the trust and understanding there, Mycroft started in again, fucking Greg hard, hand stroking in time once more. Greg cried out, ankles locking behind Mycroft, panting. 

He had no way of knowing how long Mycroft fucked him like that. Greg floated on the high of the venom, moaning and writhing under Mycroft’s ministrations. 

Mycroft’s voice sounded in his ear. “You’re going to come for me, Gregory.” 

Greg groaned arching up again, whimpering as Mycroft sped up, body rocking with each thrust. “Fuck! Mycroft, please. God, please, yes.” It wasn’t long, a few more almost brutal thrusts and Greg was tensing, body trembling and then going rigid as he came hard, gasping Mycroft’s name.

A few thrusts after that Mycroft followed him, head buried against Greg’s neck, though he did not bite.

The two of them laid tangled together like that for a long time until Mycroft had soften completely and he eased over to the side, drawing Greg into his arms.

The weekend passed in much the same manner, some of it sober for Greg, some of it not. By the time it was over he had decided he was never letting Mycroft Holmes near him again if he needed to do anything important. Concentrating around him was an impossibility.

\---

Two months later found them settled into a routine of meeting when they could for dinner… even if it sometimes meant Mycroft showing up at the Yard with takeout at three AM because that’s when they both had time.

One dinner date found them walking alone in the park at half two on the way to Mycroft’s house when they were attacked.

Greg took a blow to the back of the head, momentarily stunned as he dropped to his knees. He watched as several vampires swarmed Mycroft. His head swam as he tried to struggle to his feet, left alone, apparently assumed unimportant.

The flash of metal caught his eye as Mycroft flung half of his umbrella away, smacking one of the vampires with it as he did. Mycroft whirled and spun as he fought. One of the other vampires pulled out a sword and Greg watched as the two literally made sparks fly in the darkened park. Another vampire sneaked up behind Mycroft when Greg found his feet and launched himself at the vampire.

The two of them went rolling along the ground and Greg’s fist collided with the vampire’s jaw. “S’my fucking vampire you’re fucking with there, mate.” Greg snarled as he drew back to strike again. The vampire lunged with his faster speed, tackling Greg and pressing him flat to his back. A hand closed around his throat and Greg struggled before the head of his assailant went flying. With a shudder, Greg rolled the body off of him.

He stood, Mycroft immediately standing back-to-back with him as two more vampires circled them.

“So, sword in the brolly...”

“I don’t _only_ carry it because I’m sensitive to the sun, you know…” Mycroft murmured.

When the first vampire lunged at Greg, he ducked, instinct letting he and Mycroft move as though they’d trained together for years. Mycroft’s upper body twisted, sword coming around to slice a gash across the chest of the attacking vampire before he whipped back around and lunged at the one in front of him. He scored a heart stab, dropping the vampire where he stood.

The vampire with the wicked slash was trying to get away and Greg took him out at the knees, quickly handcuffing him and looking up at Mycroft. A small smile briefly appeared on Mycroft’s face as he placed a phone call.

“Yes, three dead, one injured. Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade exposed… Mm, yes. We’ll wait.” Mycroft slid his phone back into his pocket and sniffed. “This suit is simply ruined.”

A low, huffing laugh escaped Greg. “You- have a lot of explaining to do, Mycroft. What have you dragged me into this time?”

Mycroft smiled. “Ah, unfortunately there is an underground network who would rather we go back to living in the dark ages when we ruled over your kind…” He cleared his throat. “This sort of thing actually happens with some frequency. Though normally they leave human companions alone, as they’d rather not cause a panic… yet. Not until all their little plans are in place.”

“Great. I thought all those rumors of vampire terrorists were just rumors…” Greg muttered. He shook his head. “Little woozy.”

With a scowl Mycroft moved to Greg and pulled him up, checking him over. When he drew Greg’s hands into the light he held one up. “Scratched. Lightly hit his fang when you punched him. We tend to make sure we’re producing venom in situations like this…”

“Great, I’m drugged.” Greg groused as he stood there with Mycroft.

“Oh, don’t be an infant, Gregory. It’s only enough to make you light headed for a few minutes. Now, a team is on its way to take us for statements, identify this lot and clean up. You’ll be called off work tomorrow… off working a government case. Will you spend the night with me?” Mycroft asked as they stood there.

“Is after we’ve fought for our lives really the best time to invite me back to yours for a shag, Mycroft?”

Mycroft huffed. “Crass, Gregory.” He leaned in and whispered against his ear. “But if you must know, yes, I find it the perfect time,” his arm slipped around Greg’s waist pulling him flush against him, as his voice dropped to a purr, “to invite you back to mine for a _shag_ as you so eloquently put it.” 

A soft groan escaped Greg as Mycroft nipped at his ear and he shivered.

“Christ, Mycroft!”

The chuckle in Greg’s ear was dark as Mycroft nosed down along Greg’s throat. “I would have killed them all for harming you…” He breathed out against Greg’s skin.

“You nearly did.” Greg pointed out with a gasp as Mycroft’s fangs grazed his neck. “My- Mycroft… we’re in pub- oh fuck…” he groaned as Mycroft’s fangs sank into his neck and he clung to Mycroft tightly as he was fed upon.

Mycroft took several mouthfuls until someone in his newly arrived team cleared his throat. “Mr. Holmes, Sir?”

Greg’s head was swimming and he was painfully hard. Mycroft hadn’t injected him with any venom, but over the past few months, Mycroft’s feedings, even without venom, had become highly erotic situations for Greg. He shivered as he felt Mycroft’s tongue slide over the puncture wounds before Mycroft straightened.

“Priority One cleaning. Gregory and I will be going to the Blaine House for debriefing. It is the most well stocked.”

“Of course, Sir. Your car is waiting at the south entrance.” The young vampire guard saluted.

Mycroft gave a sharp nod, dismissing him and glanced to Greg, the predatory look in his eyes making Greg nearly whimper on the spot. Mycroft was almost always the more dominant partner in bed, well in life, really… and Greg truly didn’t mind. Mycroft had an overwhelming presence about him. But there was something about this that was different.

And Greg _liked_ it.

\---

The ride to the Blaine House wasn’t long and Greg found himself ushered into the ornate looking brownstone and down a flight of stairs into the basement. Before he had a chance to ask about anything, Mycroft had him slammed against the wall and was kissing him as though he were taking a week’s worth of frustrations out on him.

There was a low snarl in Mycroft’s words. “You don’t do that sort of thing, Gregory. Tackling a vampire! Idiot.” 

Greg stared up at Mycroft a bit wide-eyed. “He was sneaking up on you!”

Mycroft leaned his head against Greg’s, words whispered against his lips. “I won’t lose you. You are _mine_ , Gregory Lestrade.”

A shiver ran up Greg’s spine as he struggled to understand the possessiveness he could feel rolling off Mycroft. Greg whispered as he stood there. “Mycroft?”

Clearing his throat Mycroft pulled away and looked down at him. “Take a moment to freshen up. I’ll make sure there is coffee and something for you to snack on. We’ll have to give our account of the attack to council approved members, but we’ll be able to stay here or go back to my home after.”

Greg nodded and moved to the room Mycroft indicated.

In the end it took nearly an hour and a half for them to go over everything before the council representative left. Mycroft wrapped a hand around Greg’s and led him out and to the bedroom. Greg was startled when Mycroft shoved him against the wall and began stripping him out of his clothes, flinging them across the room.

“Myc-” Greg was silenced with a low growl as Mycroft kissed him and hitched one of Greg’s legs up so that it was hooked around Mycroft’s hip. Greg moaned into the kiss, cock responding immediately.

Mycroft fished in his pocket and found a small packet of lube. He tore it open with his teeth, coating his fingers with the lube before he slid two into Greg without much warning.

“Fuck!” Greg’s head tipped to Mycroft’s collarbone as he panted. It wasn’t at all painful, but surprising. He moaned as he rocked down against Mycroft’s fingers after a moment of adjustment.

A low growl sounded against Greg’s neck as Mycroft worked him open. Although Greg could feel that he was being gentle, there was anger in Mycroft’s voice as he spoke harshly against Greg’s ear. “You needlessly put your life at risk. I am older and better trained than any of them. You risked not only yourself, but me as well since I had to concentrate more fully on you.” He punctuated his words with thrusts of his fingers, making Greg squirm and moan, pinned as he was between Mycroft and the wall.

“You were stupid tonight, Gregory… something I’d not thought of you before. You allowed another vampire’s venom in you! That is tantamount to cheating!” Mycroft snarled with a particularly rough thrust that had Greg’s head hitting the wall with a loud gasping moan.

“Mycroft… Christ, no, that’s not- I didn’t-” Greg murmured.

“I know… it was during the fight…” Mycroft gentled his motions as he rocked his fingers in and out, making Greg gasp.

“Fuck, Mycroft… please. Oh God, please.” Greg was panting, needy in a way he really couldn’t recall having been outside of sexual situations with Mycroft. Something about the way the two of them worked together left Greg a begging, wanton mess.

Mycroft eased his fingers out and undid his flies, pulling himself out. He slicked his cock just enough to ensure he’d not harm Greg, using meticulous calculation to apply only enough to make it pleasurable for both of them… though Greg would feel the result with most of his movements tomorrow.

Greg groaned as he was lifted with ease and locked his ankles behind Mycroft’s back. Mycroft’s preternatural strength was something of a turn-on for him and the way Mycroft handled him sometimes proved he was well aware of the fact. He gasped as Mycroft pressed into him. 

“Christ, Mycroft…” He whimpered as he nuzzled along his jaw and met his lips in a rough kiss. Greg had never really felt _claimed_ before now. Sex had sometimes been rough, and they’d certainly experimented with the venom and even with rope once or twice… But this was different. 

When Greg gasped again, tipping his head back, Mycroft dipped his head, kissing and nipping along Greg’s throat. “Mine.” He growled against Greg’s neck. “You are mine, Gregory.”

If anyone else had tried to claim Greg like that, he’d have punched them. Vampire or not, hot sex or not, Greg knew he would have laid them out in the floor. Mycroft was another matter entirely and the words did not bother him when they escaped his lips in a breathy moan. “Yours, fuck! Mycroft, only yours!”

There was a savagery behind Mycroft’s bite that was not normally present when he sank his fangs into Greg’s neck. The pain, for a moment, was blinding, and Greg let loose a startled cry before Mycroft’s venom hit and Greg felt Mycroft angling himself better as his thrusts grew faster. One of Mycroft’s hands gathered Greg’s wrists, pinning them above their heads.

A small sound of pleasure was wrung from Greg at the unexpected bondage as Mycroft drank. Greg felt himself hanging somewhere between treasured pet and prey. His head swam with the venom and ever building pleasure. He moaned low as Mycroft sped up. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Greg knew there would never be anyone else. This time wasn’t just about angry sex after him risking his life; this was a fundamental shift in their relationship. 

Mycroft leaned against him as he thrust, trapping Greg’s cock. The movements and expensive fabric of Mycroft’s suit rubbing against him had Greg screaming with his release soon after. He shuddered in Mycroft’s arms, whimpering and moaning through it. Mycroft’s hips stuttered a few moments later before he thrust deep once more and stilled, a low growl sounding against Greg’s neck as he came, grip on Greg’s wrists tightening almost painfully.

The two of them stayed like that for a few minutes. Mycroft supporting Greg against the wall, fangs buried in his neck again, though not injecting poison or moving to allow blood flow. With a gentleness that contradicted the entire session, Mycroft eased his fangs out and closed the puncture wounds before pulling himself from Greg with gentle motions. He drew Greg into his arms, carrying him into the large bathroom.

“Gregory? Look at me darling…” Mycroft murmured.

Greg looked up at Mycroft, a dazed look in his eyes. “Mm, s’okay Mycroft. Don’t look so worried.”

Mycroft hummed as he leaned over and began running a bath. “I was somewhat rough on you.”

“Liked it.” Greg responded as he tucked his head against Mycroft’s shoulder. 

A small smile appeared on Mycroft’s face and he eased Greg to the toilet lid before undressing himself. With gentle movements he put them both in the tub, Greg sighing at the warm water as they sank down.

“I am glad you enjoyed yourself, Gregory.” Mycroft murmured as he began washing Greg.

A soft moan of relaxation sounded as Greg allowed Mycroft’s ministrations. By the time it was over, Greg was nearly asleep, something about vampires and taking on human mates niggling the back of his brain.

Mycroft gathered Greg into his arms, careful to dry them both before he carried Greg to the large bed and tucked him into it. Greg sleepily watched Mycroft stare at him.

“Come on then, Vampire Mine… Come to bed. Stop brooding over whatever it is.” Greg slurred with sleep and the venom coursing through him. He was glad when Mycroft obliged him, wrapping up around and cocooning him. Soon Greg was aware of nothing, pulled down into sleep feeling safe and protected.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have never done this without The Antidiogenes cheering me on.
> 
> GentleMoirai is the most patient person ever. I've wrapped up a lot of stuff and not have more time to devote to this. Whew.

The bright light of the early afternoon dragged Greg from bed, eliciting a groan from him as he stumbled toward the bathroom. Mycroft hushed him and hissed at the bright light.

“Do draw the bloody curtains, Gregory. I’m tired and it stings.” 

Greg hummed and made sure the bright sun was blocked from Mycroft as he thought about the early morning hours they’d shared. He shook his head, pulling on pyjamas and a dressing gown before slipping out to the kitchen. A young vampire startled him and Greg nearly flailed back out of the doorway.

“Begging your pardon, sir. I’m your bodyguard. Mister Holmes asks that you not leave. My name is James Tanner.” Tanner said with a small bob of his head.

“Right, ah- Tanner? Or do you prefer James?” Greg asked as he moved to the kettle before changing his mind; he needed a bloody coffee if he were going to put up with having a bodyguard now. _Christ, Mycroft._

“Tanner’s fine, sir.”

“Greg, just- Greg. I get enough ‘sirs’ at the Yard, yeah?” He went about making his coffee and rooting for breakfast as Tanner watched. Greg yawned as he sat down with his cereal and coffee. Through a mouthful he asked, “So how long are you going to have to babysit me?”

“Manners, Gregory… Honestly. I know you are exposed to all sorts in your job, but I know you are above such base things as speaking with your mouth full.” Mycroft’s face was pinched as he prepared himself a cup of herbal tea.

“And he’ll be _babysitting_ you for as long as I deem it necessary.” 

Greg rolled his eyes. “I am a grown man. You’re aware of this, dear?”

“Yes, _dear_. I am aware that you are a human being of an adult nature, generally considered _grown_ as you phrased it. I am also aware that the vampire contingents who are normally quieter than this and who normally do not target humans, now know exactly who you are and what you mean to me. Do forgive me if I’m a bit- _protective_ won’t you, Gregory?” Mycroft looked at Greg over the rim of his teacup.

Appropriately chastised, Greg scowled and shoved another bite of cereal in his mouth. He was quiet for a bit as he turned the new information over in his mind. When he’d finished and had his second cup of coffee, Greg leaned back in the chair. 

“If they know who I am, wouldn’t it be better to keep me out in public? To keep me where they can’t snatch me without causing a scene?” he asked as he watched Mycroft.

Mycroft shook his head. “No… This is exactly what they’d want, to snatch you in front of everyone. They would love to show their reach. You are a well loved DI, even if most don’t know I am a vampire, your being snatched would cause heavy concerns… Especially if you disappeared in public.”

“God, someone should warn John and Sherlock then.” Greg muttered into his coffee cup.

“I assure you, they have been warned.” Mycroft answered. “Appropriate measures have been taken.”

With a scowl and a sigh, Greg looked up. “So what do we do now?”

Mycroft’s smile pulled his face into a predatory look. “Now? Now we plan.”

Two hours later found Greg back in his flat, packing. Tanner was standing guard in the sitting room. God only knew where Mycroft had disappeared to. When he was finished packing, Greg hauled his suitcase out. 

He looked at Tanner as he gathered his backpack. “How long have you been working for Mycroft then?”

“Fifteen years.”

“You look like you’re bloody fifteen now, mate… Sorry.” Greg smiled.

Tanner laughed at that. “You forget how much slower we age. I’m older than you are.”

Greg shook his head. “Wouldn’t mind aging a bit slower myself, Christ knows my joints would appreciate it.

A small look of surprise came over Tanner’s face. “He hasn’t-” He shook his head.

“Who hasn’t what?” Greg asked as they made their way down the stairs after he locked up.

“Not my place… and I like my head attached.”

Greg huffed, “Well, that’s that answered. Mycroft’s involved.” 

Tanner smirked as he loaded Greg’s bag into the car and they headed toward the safe house once more.

“So why the safe house instead of Mycroft’s?”

“Safe House has more security… They’re more likely to try and fail there. Mycroft’s house would be-” Tanner hummed. “I don’t know how much you know about the inner workings of the council, but to strike at the heart of a council member’s house like that… to steal his pet, pardon the expression, theirs, not ours. Well, it would be a crown jewel, almost as good as snatching you in public.”

Greg shivered. “You’re sure John Watson is safe?”

Tanner chuckled. “Please don’t underestimate the lengths the Holmes brothers are willing to go to to ensure who or what is theirs is safe.”

It should have pricked, being referred to as a possession, should have made Greg angry… But he found comfort in the words rather than irritation, much to his surprise.

When they arrived at Blaine House, Tanner carried Greg’s things inside, leaving him to tote only his shaving kit. Mycroft was pacing in an open study, speaking into a mobile. Greg couldn’t determine the language outside of the fact that it had Slavic roots. Though Mycroft’s voice was at a reasonable level, Greg couldn’t help but think it would have been less threatening had Mycroft been shouting.

After he put away his things, he realized he smelled food and his stomach rumbled. He let his feet guide him to the kitchen, where an older woman was plating food. 

“Ah, Detective Inspector Lestrade.” She turned and looked up to him with a smile. 

_Oh. Well then… It must be serious._ Greg cleared his throat. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere. The woman’s younger son had inherited them. “Mrs. Holmes, it’s a pleasure.”

“None of that Greg, sit, sit. Call me Mummy like the boys do. If I know Myc, he’s hardly seen to it that you’ve eaten properly today. Eat.” Mummy gestured to the table. “You can call me Victoria if you prefer…”

Greg beamed a bit as he sat down at the table. “It would be an honor to call you Mummy. Thank you… I- has Mycroft…”

“Told me about you two? That daft boy, only when you were put in danger. Honestly. My boys find people to be happy with and they hide you away. Or hide themselves from you and then hide you away from me.” Mummy fussed as she made sure Greg had everything he needed, seeming to take comfort in taking care of him. 

“I’m still not sure what’s going on.” Greg confessed a few minutes later.

She smiled and patted his hand. “Mycroft has gone and angered those idiots who would have all humans enslaved or some rubbish... again. Unfortunately, this time, he has you for them to come after.”

Greg winced, falling silent as he ate. Mummy smiled when he made a pleased noise at the taste. The food was gone quicker than Greg would have liked, but he was full in a way that left him pleased and a bit sleepy. He stood and started the washing up. Mummy tried to stop him and he shook his head.

“I insist, you cooked. I clean. My mum would box my ears if she saw me letting you clean up after me.” Greg winked and Mummy acquiesced. 

“You’re a good boy, Gregory Lestrade. I’m glad Myc picked you.”

“Mummy, please. You gave me a name. Can you never be bothered to use it?” Mycroft drawled as he entered the kitchen.

Greg caught himself staring. He rarely saw this side of Mycroft, his hair tousled, standing in his waistcoat with his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows… so undone. At least, he didn’t see him like this outside of the bedroom. The image was striking and Greg found himself fumbling with a plate as he dried it.

“Hush, dear. I’ve fed Greg. I’m off to check on your brother and our dear John. Your father’s still there. Take care.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek before doing the same to Greg and squeezing his arm. “Don’t let him overwork either of you, Greg.” She patted him and then Mummy was gone, a vampire Greg hadn’t even seen following in her wake.

“That was-” Greg started.

“Mummy. You needn’t say more.” Mycroft smiled as he pulled Greg to him. “Bit overwhelming day. We have some leads… if you’re willing to work the case.”

A smile turned the corners of Greg’s mouth up. “Oh, I’m willing. Let’s catch these bastards, Myc.”

Mycroft scowled. “Gregory… Don’t make me tie you up.”

“Well if that’s the treatment I get for calling you Myc, I think I’ll keep using it.” Greg smirked and darted out of the kitchen toward the study, Mycroft rolling his eyes as he followed along.

“Gregory Lestrade…”

Greg laughed as he settled in at the desk. “I’m not as fast as Sherlock, but start handing me files, let’s catch these idiots so I can stop hiding… not that being locked away with you is torture, mind. But this is hardly how I’d like to spend the time if we’re going to be locked away together.”

Mycroft pushed a stack of folders in front of Greg. “These are the ones we need to concentrate on. Fresh eyes will help. Look at them as you would one of your crime rings. Ignore the Vampirism for now.”

With a nod, Greg tucked into the reading, shutting everything else out, just as he would if he were working a case at the yard.

Six hours later a pot of tea and a plate of food appeared at his elbow. 

“Gregory? You should eat something. Take a break… We’ve worked the afternoon through, straight into the evening.” Mycroft’s voice was gentle as he sat down beside him, sipping at a glass of what was most certainly not wine. At the face Greg made Mycroft shook his head. “I’ve had quite a bit of your blood recently and I need to be fully sated and fed at all times right now in case of attack.”

Greg rubbed his face and pushed the files away before pulling the food to him. “You ordered Thai for me?” 

“It is your favorite, is it not?” Mycroft looked concerned.

“It is, of course it is… I-” Greg smiled. “I didn’t know you knew.”

Mycroft’s face contorted into an insulted look. “Of course, I know, Gregory… What kind of significant other do you take me for?”

Greg snorted. “Until the very possessive declarations last night, we’d not really fully defined this, Mycroft… At least, not aloud.”

A look of surprise crossed Mycroft’s face. “Oh. _Oh_. I’ve been remiss, Gregory… my- my apologies I-.” He cleared his throat. “I assumed you knew we were- I’ve been courting you according to the vampire customs and-”

“Mycroft.” Greg set aside his chopsticks and pulled him close. “I- I didn’t know, I’m unfamiliar with them… I should have known. You never do anything by halves. I am happy to hear this, there hasn’t been anyone else I’ve ever wanted to look at, not since months before you started courting me… if I’m being fully honest here.”

Mycroft leaned in, kissing Greg, his movements gentle, surprising Greg. Greg’s hand moved to the back of Mycroft’s head, his other moving to Mycroft’s thigh. When they parted a few minutes later, Mycroft was smiling. 

“Now that we have that settled, eat… I have a feeling we’re in for a long night.” Mycroft murmured.

Greg groaned. It had already been a long day, but nothing he wasn’t used to… didn’t mean he couldn’t have a self-indulgent moment of winging. He ate and they got back to it, diving into the paperwork and files again with renewed purpose.

Hours later, Greg wasn’t sure how many, he came up with a gasp. “Mycroft… Fuck. I’ve found one of them.”

“Found one of them?” Mycroft asked, confusion lacing his tones.

“One of them is a bloody custodian at the Met…” Greg slapped a file down in front of Mycroft.

“Just three months ago we switched to outside hires. They come in through a service now. He’s part of the crew that cleans my floor, he’s been in my office at three AM while I’ve been filling out paperwork. Seemed like a nice enough bloke. Didn’t hide he was a vampire. Hell, I think we made small talk a couple times.”

Mycroft looked at Greg and back to the file. “Gregory… think carefully, when was the last time you saw him?” 

“That’s easy… The morning we were attacked. I told him not to mess with anything in my office, that I was busy, but going out for a walk in the park-” Greg trailed off, looking a bit pale.

“Gregory, I don’t know how he managed to flout the security… but he’s one of the leaders. You-” Mycroft turned and drew out his mobile, pressing in a number. He watched Greg, reaching out and stroking his face as though he were afraid Greg would be snatched from in front of him.

“They’ve infiltrated Scotland Yard. I need information on the cleaning services The City of London has started hiring twenty minutes ago. I don’t care what it takes… No, you don’t understand… Andrei Chalcov has been cleaning DI Lestrade’s office for three months…” Mycroft snapped.

Greg could hear a flurry of chatter on the other end of the phone. 

A moment later Mycroft nodded as he snapped. “Very well.” He looked up to Greg. “Andrei is very high up… It is- concerning that he has taken such an interest in you.” An uncomfortable look came over Mycroft. “I should be frank. Andrei and I went to school together… he has a habit of coveting things of mine.”

The more Mycroft spoke, the angrier Greg became. “So he’s been fucking about at my office, waiting for the opportune time to snatch me because I’m _yours_?” He snapped, regretting it when Mycroft flinched.

“That would be the sum of things as far as I can see them at the moment.” Mycroft answered, his voice tight.

“Mycroft-” Greg took a breath. “It isn’t your fault but it makes me angry.”

“I understand. I do, Gregory. Now is not the time for anger, now is the time for calculations… We must find out what they are planning. Exactly.” Mycroft murmured.

“Then send me back… He won’t take me from inside, surely.” Greg challenged.

“I cannot risk you!”

Greg snapped, “This is a terrorist movement, Mycroft! Someone has to be risked!”

A low snarl left Mycroft and he stood, stalking to the window, peering out into London. “I don’t want it to be you.” He whispered to the glass.

“We can’t just sit here and let other people pay when we have this knowledge. They don’t suspect we know.” Greg countered as he stood. “Let me go back to work, Mycroft… let me do this.”

The look on Mycroft’s face made Greg take an involuntary step back. He’d seen vampires on the edge at crime scenes, seen them in the throes of lost control as well… but he’d never seen Mycroft that close to it. His face was twisted until he closed his eyes and made a concentrated effort to calm himself.

“Mycroft-” Greg started.

“No, Gregory. You are correct, a chance like this won’t likely come like this again. You realize what you’re risking? Your very life, everything. Everything…”

A small huff escaped Greg. “Mycroft. I risk my life every day. This is what I _do_. This is who I _am_. Please don’t tell me you thought I’d give this up?”

Mycroft shook his head. “No, no… I’d never ask you for that. This is different- this is, they’re doing this because of who you are to me, Gregory, not because of your job. You must understand that. They will be far more willing to come after you, more willing to take risks.”

Greg nodded. “I understand, Mycroft. I understand the risks and what’s going on. I won’t have terrorists root me out of my home, my job… my everything, just because I’m daring to date you, to- to be yours. That’s not on and I won’t bloody well stand for it.” He slammed his hand down on the desk as he stood there. 

He cleared his throat, calming himself as Mycroft watched him, an eyebrow arched at the display. “Mycroft, this is my life, _this is my life with you_ and I will not let them win.”

A small, tight smile forced the corners of Mycroft’s mouth up. “Very well. I insist we stay here though… there are many things we have access to here that I do not and will not have access to at our homes. Is this agreeable?”

“Agreed… now let’s talk about sending me back to work.” Greg murmured as he sat back down.

With a sigh, Mycroft settled back in at the desk. “Not today… we have too much to do today. Call in, talk to Sergeant Donovan. You’ll go see John at the clinic. Stomach virus.”

“Oi, fine, right…” Greg ran his hand over his face.

Hours later as he entered the clinic, he truly did look like he was down with something. John made him suffer through a full exam. 

“Right, well, officially you have a stomach virus, but off the books, go home and sleep. Sherlock’s told me what’s going on.” John admonished as he wrote a note for Greg to take to his super.

“John, what the fuck are we meant to do?” Greg asked as he sat there a moment longer.

John looked up at him. “We take these bastards down. I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to be enslaved by a bunch of arseholes just because we’re a different bloody race. To hell with that.”

Greg nodded, the movement sharp. “Right. I haven’t- been over twenty-four since I slept.”

“Go home to Mycroft, Greg. Get some sleep… we’ll get these bastards.” John squeezed his shoulder as he spoke before showing him out.

With a wave, Greg headed out, sinking into the back of the sedan when Tanner opened it for him. Anthea waited, tapping on her Blackberry. “We’re going back to Blaine House. Mister Holmes is in a meeting. He asked that you eat and go to bed.”

“Christ, does everyone but me get to make decisions about my well-being?” Greg snapped.

Anthea looked up and Greg had the decency to look abashed. 

“Sorry about that.” He murmured as he turned his face to the window, watching London pass them by.

“No need to apologize. I’m certain the past few days have been trying.” Anthea answered as she went back to her Blackberry.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Blaine House loomed and Greg dragged himself inside. He barely tasted the food before showering and crawling into the bed clad in a pair of pyjama bottoms. His exhaustion was so overwhelming he neither heard, nor felt Mycroft crawl into bed with him late that night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go. I promise to try not to take a month or more this time!

Greg was exhausted from living in the safehouse. After nearly a month of back and forth, his ‘babysitter’ never far away, Greg was going mad. He’d spoken, in passing, to the janitor he now knew was someone as likely to kidnap and drain him as he was to empty his bins. Okay, maybe not drain him… but Greg would certainly be used to pressure Mycroft in unpleasant ways.

He groaned as he looked up at the clock. His neck cracked, loud and painful sounding, as he stood. The sound that followed from his back made him wince. “Christ. I am too old to pull these hours.”

A low, dark chuckle sounded from the doorway. “Come now, Inspector… Surely being the pet of one of the most important vampires in the country, even if he does hide himself, is worth something? Hasn’t he asked you to be his yet?”

Andrei Chalcov stood in Greg’s office doorway. Greg smiled.

“I am his. You’ve come for me then?” Greg answered as he slid on his jacket.

“You aren’t surprised… interesting. How long have you known?” Andrei looked amused as he held out his hand for Greg’s phone.

Without hesitation, Greg handed the phone over and Andrei crushed it, dumping it into the overflowing bin. 

“Don’t suppose you’ll be emptying that tonight?” Greg looked thoughtful for a moment. “ And to answer your question, must be a month now.” 

Andrei laughed and tutted. “Mycroft let you out? Perhaps he knows you lot belong below us after all. I didn’t think he’d ask an old human to bond. Why waste the power on something like you?”

“Bond?” Greg questioned as Andrei gestured him out.

“Oh my, he’s not even told you that he could bind you to him in such a way that would stop you aging? That’s rich… I may have overestimated your importance. No matter, come along.”

Greg puzzled over the new information as Andrei led him down. He caught sight of Tanner, who nodded with a finger to his lips as they passed. Andrei was too caught up in his gloating to see Tanner. Greg blinked and Tanner was gone. They made their way down, working toward a side entrance. 

When they slipped into the cool, damp evening air, Greg was surprised to see one of the safehouse guards there, leering at him. “It was only a matter of time before we got you.”

“Shut up, Androv,” Andrei snarled.  
Greg frowned. ‘Androv’s’ accent was wrong. His name was Charles… Charles Smithden if Greg remembered correctly, and he was pretty damn sure about it. His brow furrowed and ‘Androv’ winked to him. “Don’t you worry, we’ll take care of you.”

He couldn’t be sure, but Greg thought, for just a moment, that he was definitely more Charles than Androv and Greg snarked. “Oh piss off, you’re not nearly gorgeous enough.” 

The words earned him a cuff to the back of the head and an order to ‘get the fuck in the car already’. He ducked his head as he slid into the backseat, joined by Andrei. 

“Now, my darling, we’re going to go to my home so we can contact your precious Mycroft and see what’s to be done with you.” Andrei murmured. “You do smell quite delicious and you’ve always been courteous to me. We’ll see if I can’t find you a proper place in my household once this has all come to pass.”

“If you think I’m going to be-”

“Ah- now, now… I could be willing to negotiate your return to Mycroft if you behave and he gives me what I want. Don’t spoil it for the both of you.” Andrei tutted at Greg as the car pulled away, a few motorbikes joining as they headed away from Scotland Yard.

Greg fell silent, plastering a scowl on his face. He endured the ride, ignoring the questions Andrei asked him. When they arrived at the house, he was escorted inside by a hulking vampire. The room he was left in was nice, if he ignored the bars on the windows. A curry from his favorite place was brought in soon after with a strong cup of gourmet coffee. 

Deciding it was better to have his strength and risk being drugged, rather than allow himself to be grumpy and tired from lack of food. He sat down at the small table and tucked into it, sighing happily at the flavor. 

The minutes ticked by and eventually Greg gave up on anyone coming to him and climbed onto the bed, kicking back to rest his eyes. There was not a ready means of escape and anything he did would likely spoil any plans Mycroft already had in place.

Meanwhile, in London, Mycroft was calmly directing his staff. Coded messages were coming in from Charles, and Tanner had sneaked in as one of the motorcycle guards. Between the two of them, Andrei’s compound was under surveillance and there was enough evidence to bring in a anti-terrorism group. So much more was at stake than Gregory and, as much as it pained him, Mycroft had given the order to take the house.

The objective, of course, was to retrieve all evidence and Gregory unharmed… but he would also be considered collateral damage if something happened. Unfortunate, but a necessary part of taking down the terrorists. Mycroft closed his eyes and centered himself, fist clenching for a moment before pushing all throughs of Greg from his mind in order to make sure the plans were all in place.

He would give Greg every chance he possibly could, and that meant making sure he planned for every outcome.

\---

Greg woke early in the morning, Andrei climbing into bed with him. Before he could scramble out of the bed, Andrei had his hands around him and his teeth in his neck. He felt the venom and struggled harder as he felt it hitting him until it took over and he moaned, baring his neck further.

Andrei chuckled against Greg’s neck, pulling back and sealing the wounds. “Mm, I see why Mycroft keeps you. Very tasty… maybe I’ll keep you for myself.”

Despite the high the venom was causing, Greg shook his head, managing a quiet, “Piss off… not yours. ‘m Mycroft’s…” He glared at Andrei until another wave of the venom made him drop back on the bed.

“Mm, no, Inspector Lestrade… you belong to the vampire who has you. Since Mycroft can’t keep hold of his toys, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Bit old for my aesthetic wants, but I’m rather fond of how you taste.” Andrei purred as he watched Greg.

“Fuck you…” Greg muttered as he stared at the ceiling.

Andrei chuckled. “Well, if you insist.”

Greg looked over to him and clenched his jaw as much as he could with the venom running through him, pointedly ignoring the erection it was causing. “Not on your life, arse.”

Whatever Andrei was about to say was cut off by a shout from downstairs and he snarled, leaping off the bed. “Don’t get any ideas. I’ll slaughter them all and take what is mine when I get back, precious.”

The sounds of gunfire and shouting dragged Greg up from his drugged state now and again. He tried, several times to get up, to get the hell out while he was unguarded… He got to the door and collapsed into the hall just as a team crested the stairs. Shouted orders around him made him dizzy as he closed his eyes. He felt the sting of a needle as he looked up into Tanner’s eyes.

Tanner had a hand on his ear as he spoke. “Silver Fox in hand, administering drugs now. On our way back to the safehouse within five minutes.”

Greg huffed an incredulous giggle before passing out.

\---

Greg woke to someone stroking a cool rag over his forehead and a soft, motherly voice comforting him.

“Easy there, love. Stay down, don’t try to sit up.” She tutted. “Mycroft, using those nasty drugs on you. Counteracts the venom… I think he was a bit jealous you’d been bitten by that awful terrorist.”

“Mrs. Holmes?” Greg croaked as he opened his eyes, trying to focus on her.

“Now… call me Mummy, Mrs. Holmes is for everyone else. How are you feeling?”

Greg groaned. “Like I got hit by a bloody lorry.” He winced, “Sorry.”

A small chuckle left Mrs. Holmes as she continued caring for him. “I know I’m supposed to be a respectable, high society vampire and in public, I am. In private, sod it… I haven’t the time to be full of grace. Your language is not a problem.”

“Your son will not appreciate you condoning my bad manners.” Greg grinned to her.

“Mm, likely not… but he is busy and far too stuffy for his own good sometimes.” She answered.

“Mummy…” Mycroft sighed as he entered the room. “Are you corrupting my intended?”

Mummy looked up at Mycroft and arched a brow in surprise. “Intended? Mycroft… have you explained to him what that entails?”

“It is what I’m here to do… The threat is passed and I have been remiss in taking care of him and in telling him of my plans. I should ask him.” Mycroft answered.

“Ask me what?” Greg murmured, wincing as he tried to sit up, head aching as he did.

A smile broke out over Mummy’s face and she rose, crossing to Mycroft and kissing his cheek. “You’ve chosen well, my love.” She patted him and smiled to Greg. “Rest up, dear. I’ll check in on you both soon.”

Mycroft began peeling out of his jacket and stripping out of his tie as he approached Greg. “We have neutralized the cell. They will be punished accordingly…” He paused, licking over his bottom lip, an uncharacteristic moment of nervousness. “There is a way, Gregory, a bonding of sorts, that will allow me to keep you with me always… We are so much longer lived.”

Greg’s brow furrowed. “I want whatever time I have with you, Mycroft… you know that.”

“Yes, but… if you are willing to become my thrall…”

“What the hell Mycroft? I don’t want to become a mindless walking blood bank for you!” Greg shouted at him and then putting a hand to his head with another wince. “I should have known it couldn’t be anything good when Andrei asked me about it.”

Mycroft held up his hands and shook his head. “No- please, Gregory, no. I would not- there has to be intent behind enthralling someone to make them totally obedient. I would not do that to you.”

Greg glared at him. “I don’t understand… We all know what thralls are. It’s illegal.”

“It is not illegal. It’s illegal to take away your free will. Enthrallment itself does not do that. The intent behind enthrallment does. So long as I am alive and you are my thrall, you will not age. You will be with me, just as you are.” Mycroft answered, tone caught somewhere between frustration and gentleness.

“Are you asking me to marry you, Mycroft Holmes?” Greg asked as he sat all the way up.

A small smile settled on Mycroft’s face. “I suppose that, yes, in my own way, I am… Though it is much more than your papers, Gregory.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “Get over here, you git, I know that…” When Mycroft sat on the bed, Greg buried his face against his chest. “So I won’t be mindless? Still in control of myself? No Renfield?”

“Oh, I could stake that idiot myself for terrorizing everyone like he did. Idiot… No, I am capable of making you into Renfield… but I happen to love you just as you are, Gregory. I would not change that for the world.” Mycroft murmured as he kissed Greg’s head.

A small sigh was Mycroft’s answer as Greg took comfort in resting against him. It was another few minutes before he spoke. 

“I’d like to stay with you, you know? I’m not getting any younger… I’m old enough to know we fit. We’ve not taken each other’s heads off in some of the most stressful situations I’ve ever been in. I’ve never had anyone understand my schedule like you… and I understand yours.” 

Mycroft smiled against Greg’s head. “Very well… We’ll figure out logistics later. I suppose you have no problems moving in with me?”

Greg laughed. “Course not, idiot.” He answered fondly. “Rest here with me, please?”

With gentle movements, Mycroft eased Greg back into the bed before stripping down and pulling on silk pyjama bottoms. He climbed into bed with Greg and 2wew pulled him close, kissing his forehead. “Rest. We’ll figure it out later.”

\---

Two weeks later Greg stood in the room Mycroft had indicated would be a lovely study for him. At first he’d bristled at being sent off to a room, until he realized Mycroft was correct. It was perfect. It would also serve as a place he could invite John over for a pint and watch a game without all the shouting at the pub… not that he minded the shouting all the time. Sometimes they wanted the atmosphere. But now they had a place to sprawl in luxury.

Mycroft appeared in the doorway and Greg smiled to him. “Hello you.” He murmured.

“Hello… settled in then? I’ve put your clothes away upstairs, the rest of it just came back from the cleaners.” Mycroft’s voice was indulgent as he moved to Greg’s side and wrapped an arm around his waist. 

Greg leaned into him and smiled. “It’s perfect. Did my suit for the ceremony come in then?”

Mycroft smiled. “It did… Are you sure you want to marry me as well as the enthrallment?”

“Shut up.” Greg murmured as he turned and pulled Mycroft into a slow kiss. He grinned against the kiss as Mycroft walked him back until he was pressed against his desk. A small moan left him as Mycroft lifted him to the edge of the desk and Greg wrapped his legs around Mycroft’s waist.

“I’m glad you find the arrangement satisfactory, Gregory.” Mycroft murmured before nipping at his lip.

Greg laughed, “More than satisfactory, bloody perfect is what it is.”

Mycroft grinned and leaned in, nuzzling along Greg’s neck in question. Greg tipped his head to the side, giving permission. A low growl sounded against Greg’s throat as Mycroft sank his fangs into Greg’s neck.

“Fuck, Mycroft…” Greg murmured as the venom hit him. His fingers tangled in Mycroft’s hair. “God, please.” 

Pulling at the blood for another moment, Mycroft sealed the puncture marks and rolled his hips against Greg. He smirked at the gasp Greg gave and murmured against his neck. “I’m going to make you come, right here on your desk, in your trousers.”

Greg groaned as Mycroft’s hand caressed him through his trousers, rubbing along his cock as he grew hard. “Fuck, yes… please.”

With a dark chuckle, Mycroft increased the pressure of his hand, rubbing along Greg just the way he knew would drive Greg wild. He supplemented with nips and kisses along Greg’s neck until Greg was panting, his head tipped forward against Mycroft’s shoulder. As Greg’s breathing and whimpers became more irregular, signalling how close he was, Mycroft bit again. 

At the bit of pain, coupled with a touch more venom, Greg’s world stilled before exploding out. The venom coursed through him, intensifying the orgasm and making him cry Mycroft’s name.

Gentle, loving, Mycroft worked and soothed Greg through it. His voice was tender, French on his lips as he praised Greg. He was tender as he wrapped his arms around Greg and lifted him from the desk, tucking him close.

“To bed, my love,” Mycroft murmured. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

Greg grinned against Mycroft. “Mm, let me return the favor?”

Mycroft chuckled, “Bed first…”


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock paced as Mycroft tied his tie. “Are you certain you want to go through with this?”

Mycroft looked up, brow furrowing. “Of course I am, Sherlock. Whatever would give you the idea I’m not?”

“Mm, I just wanted you to be sure, Mycroft. Enthrallment isn’t impossible to break, but you know how painful it is.” Sherlock answered as he stopped to look at him. “Lestrade is- ah- he is important to my work.”

A small smile spread over Mycroft’s face. “Sherlock… are you concerned I will hurt your friend?”

Sherlock looked affronted. “I don’t have friends, Mycroft! Don’t be ridiculous.” He huffed and straightened his tie in the mirror. “Bloody ties, really? I suppose I should be glad you didn’t require bowties.”

“Gregory said they would be pretentious. He wouldn’t hear of it.” Mycroft chuckled. “I suppose he’s correct. We aren’t exactly having a large ceremony.”

“No, though Mummy’s trussed the garden up as though you were…”

Mycroft watched Sherlock for a moment. “I won’t hurt him, Sherlock. He means everything to me. You are his friend. Don’t forget that.”

Sherlock scowled and reached out, straightening Mycroft’s tie, before brushing away a bit of lint. “Shut up… It’s almost time.” His scowl shifted into a smile as his voice softened. “I’m glad it’s Lestrade you chose.”

Across the hall in Sherlock’s old room, Greg was fussing and pacing as John looked on in amusement.

“Greg, mate, calm down.”

“Calm down? What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m doomed to age and leave him on his own? Have you seen them on their own, John? They’re hopeless. You can’t possibly handle both of them on your own. I can’t leave you to try and control both Sherlock and Mycroft by yourself!” Greg wrung his hands as he paused in front of the mirror.

“Oh who am I kidding? It will never work. I’m old.”

John couldn’t help but burst into laughter. He stood and clapped Greg on the back. “Enough. You’re not old. You know very well this is going to work and everything is going to go smoothly. I’ve never seen a pair more suited to one another. Breathe, Greg. Just breathe.”

Greg looked over to John as John pressed a scotch into his hands. 

“And for all our sakes… drink this.”

After taking a small sip, Greg smiled, looking a bit sheepish. “Thanks…”

\---

Mycroft stood under the fairy lights in the garden as he waited for Greg. Sherlock put a reassuring hand on his elbow. Everyone was determined to make the combination wedding and enthrallment go off without a hitch.

John walked up the aisle ahead of Greg, stopping across from Mycroft and Sherlock with a smile. He looked back down the aisle as Sherlock lifted his violin and played. The short piece he’d written just for Greg’s entrance filled the air. 

Greg walked down between the chairs for the few friends and family they’d invited. The music drew to a close just as Greg reached Mycroft.

The vampire officiant’s voice rang out, “And who gives this man away?”

“I bring myself willingly. I give myself to Mycroft Holmes of my own free will.” Greg answered, voice strong and sure.

The officiant nodded and Mycroft bowed his head as he held out his hand, voice gentle, but strong. “I accept this gift.”

Greg folded his hand into Mycroft’s and they turned to face the officiant. 

“We are here to witness the enthrallment and marriage of Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade to Lord Mycroft Holmes of the Holmes clan, Esteemed Council Member, and rank of General in Her Majesty’s Black Guard.”

Greg looked over to Mycroft with an arched brow as Sherlock’s voice was heard. “I told you that you should have told him your full title…”

Mycroft scowled over at Sherlock. 

The officiant bit back his smile as he continued. “If anyone should have any objections to this, they should speak now.”

When no one spoke he pushed on and nodded to Greg. “It is time.”

Greg cleared his throat and nodded. His voice was full of emotion as he gazed up at Mycroft. “I come to you willingly, lovingly, to be yours for as long as you will have me. To bind myself to you in all the ways that I possibly can be. I swear on my life that I will stay by your side so long as you will have me. To protect you with my life and to treasure you always.”

Mycroft drew Greg’s hand to his mouth and kissed it tenderly before speaking. “I accept your gift and promise to care for you, to keep you safe as you keep me safe. I promised to always listen to the things you have to say and to _try_ to never assume I know better…”

There was a small chuckle from the guests before Mycroft continued.

“I will always treasure you, Gregory… Thank you for being mine and for keeping me.”

A sniffle turned out to be Mrs. Holmes and Sherlock grinned a bit as the officiant spoke again.

“Please exchange your rings for your ah- human ceremony- marriage, apologies…” He cleared his throat and Greg laughed.

Mycroft slid a white gold band onto Greg’s finger before Greg returned the gesture, the two of them clasping hands.

“Now, please be silent.” The officiant looked to Mycroft. “You may begin.”

With a smile, Mycroft slid an arm around Greg’s waist, pulling him close. “I love you, Gregory,” he murmured as he dipped his head to nuzzle along his neck.

“Love you, Mycroft.” Greg answered as he bared his neck for Mycroft and gasped as Mycroft bit him. He couldn’t help the whimper as just a touch of venom hit him. Greg clung to him as Mycroft drank from him for a moment before lapping over the puncture wounds and leaning back.

Mycroft tugged back his sleeve before biting into his wrist, letting blood well up. “Look at me as you drink, Gregory.”

Greg gazed up at Mycroft as he fastened his mouth over Mycroft’s wrist, surprised at the sweetness of the taste. He listened as Mycroft spoke.

“I bind you to me, Gregory Lestrade. I will keep you safe. You will always have free will with me. I will never take advantage of your enthrallment. I will not control you. You are, and always will be your own man. I love you, this is my promise.”

Mycroft pulled his wrist away and lapped over the wound as Greg’s head swam, voice soft. “Easy, Gregory… I have you.” He murmured.

The officiant spoke. “Lord Mycroft Holmes and his Enthralled, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.”

Their friends and family surged to their feet, clapping for them. Mycroft smiled as he let Greg lean on him. “We’ll see you all at the reception in a bit. Please, make yourselves comfortable.” Mycroft led Greg away, toward the house as the small group cheered. 

When they were out of earshot and sight, he lifted Greg into his arms. “I know, it’s a bit overwhelming. You’ll need to lie down for a bit. I’ll stay with you… we’ll let this settle before we go back into the fray and you show me that you can dance.”

Greg chuckled and kissed Mycroft’s cheek, but did not object to being carried. “Mm, I love you. I’ll be fine, just a bit dizzy right now.”

“The lightheadedness will pass soon.” Mycroft answered as he slipped into his room and tenderly put Greg down on the bed. “Let me get you out of your jacket… we’ll join them all in a bit.”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get me naked?”

Mycroft made an indignant sound. “You should be resting, Gregory…”

“I’m just saying…”

\---

Mrs. Hudson looked up as Sherlock and John entered. “Oh boys, isn’t it wonderful?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “No, no it isn’t, now you’ll all be wanting us to make this big a fuss…”

“William Sherlock Scott- you behave yourself.” Mrs. Holmes said as she patted Mrs. Hudson on the arm. “This is not a fuss and you know it. If you don’t behave I’ll put you in the society pages.”

John smirked at the scandalized look on Sherlock’s face.

“You wouldn’t dare…” Sherlock murmured.

Mrs. Holmes smirked. “Don’t press your mummy, dear.” She winked to John before bustling off to make sure everything was in order.

A few minutes later a small cheer went up as Mycroft and Greg entered. The two of them grinned as they waltzed onto the dance floor. Everyone watched as Mycroft led the dance, guiding Greg around, spinning him about as though he were the most treasured person on the planet.

The evening could not have gone better for them. They waltzed and mingled until Greg was starting to doze against Mycroft. Mycroft bid adieu to the remaining guests as he scooped Greg into his arms. 

Greg laughed and waved to everyone as Mycroft whisked him out to the waiting car. “You’re insane, Mycroft.”

“Not insane… now rest until we get to the train station.” Mycroft murmured.

With a soft smile, Greg leaned against Mycroft and was soon fast asleep. It seemed no time at all had passed before he was being woken to board the train. He rubbed his eyes as he peered around before stumbling to the carriage with Mycroft. After Mycroft undressed him and put him to bed, Greg fell right back asleep.

\---

Sometime after the morning dawned bright and beautiful, Mycroft tinted the window on the train, watching as the scenery went by. He’d napped and felt refreshed. His bond with Greg was growing by leaps and bounds. Mycroft found himself excited to spend their first true night together after the enthrallment. As they approached the station, Greg started to stir. 

“Mmph… time?”

“You’ve slept a while, we’re almost there… Time to get up and get ready. The chateau has been prepared.” Mycroft answered as he looked over to Greg.

Greg smiled. “Good to know… I don’t care where we are, Mycroft. So long as I get to spend time with you.”

Mycroft smiled and pulled Greg from bed gently. The two of them packed the tiny bag they’d brought on board and as the train slowed a few minutes later, they readied themselves to depart. 

They were met by bodyguards and someone to carry their luggage, Greg endured it without protest after the events of his kidnapping some months ago. 

The ride to the chateau was uneventful and once the luggage was deposited, the guards melted away, becoming invisible in their places. Greg wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A pleasant lunch was laid out for them and Greg ate as Mycroft sipped at tea while reading a local paper. When Greg was finished, Mycroft looked up.

“I don’t suppose you’re opposed to accompanying me to the bedroom?”

Greg grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Mycroft chuckled as he stood and held out his hand. “Come then, my love, let me show you around.”

“So long as around, for now, is straight to the bedroom, Mycroft.” Greg answered with a teasing tone in his voice as he folded his hand in Mycroft’s letting Mycroft pull him to his feet.

They made their way upstairs to the master bedroom and Greg let out a soft oath. “Christ, Mycroft… it’s beautiful.”

“Mm, opulent, yes. But it is meant to be a get away afterall.” He smiled over to Greg.

Greg shook his head and pulled Mycroft into a kiss. “Our honeymoon…”

“Indeed,” Mycroft answered as he started to undress Greg. “Shall we shower together first?”

“If it’s half as good as this bedroom, we can live in the shower for all I care, Mycroft. So long as I’m in your arms.”

Mycroft nipped at Greg’s jaw. “So sentimental, Gregory.”

The two of them took their time undressing one another before Mycroft led Greg into the shower. He snagged a small bottle of oil on his way, nipping at Greg to keep him occupied. Mycroft pushed a few buttons outside the shower and watched as it started, heating precisely to a temperature he knew they both enjoyed. After a moment he pulled Greg into the shower with him and sighed as the jets worked over them both.

“Christ,” Greg groaned. “Can we have one of these installed at home?”

A low chuckle was Mycroft’s answer as he dipped his head to Greg’s neck and kissed along it. “I love you, Gregory,” he murmured as they stood there together.

“I love you, Mycroft… More than anything.” Greg answered before he pulled away to wash Mycroft with tender caresses.

Mycroft closed his eyes as Greg attended him, occasionally looking down and running his hand through Greg’s hair. When he was finished, Mycroft tugged him up and kissed him tenderly before taking up the sponge and returning the favor.

Greg sighed happily as Mycroft washed the grime of the reception and the train ride off of him. He groaned when Mycroft used a soap slicked hand to stroke his half hard cock. “Mycroft…” he gasped, hips rolling up. “Please.”

“Shh, Gregory… I have you. Relax.” Mycroft answered as he stroked Greg until he was fully hard, listening to the soft little keening sounds Greg was making.

He stood with a smile, making sure Greg was fully rinsed before grabbing the bottle of oil he’d brought. Mycroft urged Greg just out of the spray as he coated his fingers with oil and slid his fingers between Greg’s cheeks to press a finger slowly into him.

A low, moaning gasp escaped Greg as he tilted his head back. “Fuck, Mycroft…” He groaned as Mycroft began to work him open, taking his time and mouthing at his chest. Greg shuddered under the ministrations.

Mycroft took his time until Greg was gasping and pleading, hips jerking as he tried to get more. He smirked as Greg begged for him. Mycroft withdrew his fingers, easing them out and washing them before slicking himself. He dipped his head down and bit Greg’s neck, groaning at the taste.

Greg moaned low as the venom hit, wrapping his arms around Mycroft. “Mycroft… fuck me. Please, just fuck me.”

After a few strong pulls of Greg’s blood, Mycroft lapped over the wounds and lifted him easily. He pressed Greg back against the wall with a smirk. Greg’s head tipped back against the tile as Mycroft pressed into him, his legs hooking at the small of Mycroft’s back. Mycroft murmured soft words of praise as he kept going until he was fully seated.

“Gorgeous.” He whispered against Greg’s neck before rolling his hips and drawing a low, whimpering moan from Greg.

Greg kissed Mycroft as he rocked against him as best he could. He nipped at his lip and kissed along his jaw, whispering his love. 

Mycroft growled as he braced them against the wall and rocked his hips hard, drawing a cry out of Greg followed by a sharp ‘fuck, yes’ from him. A small, wicked smirk settled on Mycroft’s face as he did not let up, fucking Greg hard against the wall, letting the high of the venom settle in.

The sensations had Greg moaning, hips rolling down to meet Mycroft’s thrusts as best as he was able. He whimpered, fingernails digging into Mycroft’s shoulders as he was fucked hard, there against the wall of the shower. “Yours, Mycroft… fuck. Yours,” he gasped as Mycroft growled again.

The pain when Mycroft bit him again was exquisite and enough to push Greg over the edge almost embarrassingly early. He cried out as he came between them, the mix of venom high and endorphins pushing him into a beautiful headspace.

Mycroft groaned at the taste of Greg’s blood, the sweetness of the added chemicals and the spasms rocking Greg’s body resulting in only a few more thrusts from him before he was spilling, buried as far as he could get in Greg’s body. He mouthed and licked at Greg’s neck, holding him close as both of them panted and gasped in the shower.

Greg wasn’t certain how long it was before Mycroft eased him to the bench in the shower and cleaned both of them up before turning the water off. He watched as Mycroft wrapped himself in a towel and then wrapped Greg in one too before carrying him to the bed. 

When they were both dried, Mycroft tucked them in, pulling Greg close to him. “Alright?” he asked as they rested there together.

A small smile settled on Greg’s face as he felt the new sensation of Mycroft’s presence in his head. Their shared emotions were flitting back and forth as Mycroft left it open, allowing everything to find its place.

“Everything is perfect.” Greg answered before kissing Mycroft tenderly.

The peace that settled over the both of them was one they’d both been searching for and needing all their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it... I had a blast writing this. Thanks for sticking around!
> 
> It's probably not the end of this 'verse... but I'm not sure when I'll get back to it.


End file.
